His Ancient Heart (27 page)

Wilem reached out and put his arm over her shoulder. "I'm sorry, as well," he said. She pushed herself into the crook of his arm, her body shaking as she sobbed. He ran his hand over her head, trying to console her.
 

"Are
you
well?" Talon asked the Mediator.

Wilem nodded, a guilty look on his face. "Tired, and a little dizzy. I'll recover. Do you think
he'll
send soldiers here?"

"No.
He
knows how the Shifters work.
He'll
assume the town is lost and order that the barges pass on the far side of the river. Unless
he
finds out that I was seen here, fighting them. Either way, it will take a few days for word to reach Varrow or Edgewater. We'll be gone by then."

 
"Gone?" Wilem asked. "How? The barges aren't going to move without oarsmen, and if we want to take the land route, we'll be right back to where we started."

Talon rubbed his chin with his hand, feeling the stubble there. "We'll still take the river," he said. "First, let us do one more sweep of the town in search of survivors. Whatever condition they may be in, I don't want them to suffer."

"Delia," Wilem said. He took her by the shoulders and gently pulled her away from him. "Can you walk?"

She rubbed at her eyes with her forearm, only managing to smear more dirt across her face. "I can walk. I can fight if need be." The sadness was still there, but it was matched with strength.

The three of them walked back through the town. The fire had consumed most of it, including the Willow and the Gullet, leaving the bulk of Fulton a smoldering husk. They could see charred flesh in the piles of wood and ash and debris, both human and Shifter alike. The only sound in the air was the crackling and popping of flames that had yet to recede.

"How many people lived here?" Wilem said quietly as they walked. It wasn't a question as much as an expression of disbelief at the carnage.

"A thousand, maybe more," Talon guessed. That wasn't counting the sailors from the three barges resting at the docks.
 

Too many. Too much death.

Murderer.

They didn't find any survivors.

Their grisly business done, Talon led them back to the docks. While the barges couldn't sail without a complement of oarsmen, they had survived the flames, and they were sure to have stores of food and sundries on board. That was important, but even more important to Talon was the farspeak stone Curio had in his hold.
 

Hugh was still under Gerland's wagon when they returned to it. He was laying flat on the ground as Talon instructed, his hands at his sides, his eyes closed from the exhaustion the loss of blood had brought. As Talon had suspected, they were eyes that would never open again.

"A shame," Wilem said.

"All of it is," Talon replied.
 

They passed Dal's corpse and climbed the gangway onto the barge. Delia found her father there, rushing over to his broken body and kneeling in front of it, pushing his eyes closed and whispering goodbyes.

"Wait here with her," Talon said.

"Where are you going?"

"Curio has a farspeak stone in his collection. He told me it activates whenever any of the other stones do. I'm going to retrieve it, so we can bring it with us. I won't be long."

"I can help you."

Talon shook his head. "No. Stay with her. She needs someone right now."

Wilem's face changed. He looked guilty again. "Talon, I... I don't want you to get the wrong idea."

"About what?"

"Delia. I mean, she's very, very pretty. I don't think anyone could say that isn't so. If I am friendly with her, I am only trying to help her. I love Eryn."

Poor boy is trying so hard to convince himself. At his age, he'd have to be one of the dead not to take notice of a girl like her. Surviving it will either prove or break his love.

"It is neither my business or my concern," Talon said. "The fate of this Empire is bigger than the whims of your heart, whichever direction it may turn."

Wilem bowed his head and went to stand with Delia while Talon made his way forward.

He smelled it before he saw it, the scent of fire and scorched earth. He reached the door of the hold and paused. The iridescent light had been dimmed, large patches of the vegetation turned to ash all along the length of the deck. Water three inches deep bathed the floor, spilling in from an unseen hole that had formed in the hull. Wooden crates that had once held parts of Curio's collection were strewn around the space. Some of them lay broken on the floor, their contents spilling out. Others burned, filling the hold with a light haze of smoke.
 

The farspeak stone was gone.

No, not gone. Talon found the empty pedestal, and then located the stone on the ground in front of it. He stepped down into the cold river water, feeling it soak right through his leather boots to his feet. He ignored it, splashing through it until he reached the artifact. He bent down and gripped it from the top, picking it up.

His heart sank, and he let out a soft groan as he watched only the top half of the stone rise. It had broken in two, a ragged cut that left the lower portion of the stone poking up from the water like a miniature island. He clutched his portion in his arms for a moment, staring down at it as if he could will it back together. The value of the information he might have gained from the stone's possession was immeasurable. Its loss was painful.

He sighed and dropped the stone, letting it splash into the water at his feet. He scanned the hold, only now searching for the source of the destruction. He found her on the floor behind her cage, her body twisted unnaturally, her face frozen in a cry of anguish. Her fingertips were burned nearly to nothing, her clothes melted away by the power of her Curse.

A Curse she hadn't been able to control.

Talon lowered his head. Two more lives lost. What had Curio been thinking? What had he been hoping to achieve? If the man weren't already dead, he might have been tempted to kill him for his cruel stupidity.

 
"Perhaps there is something here we can use," he said to himself, turning away from the body and back to the damaged crates. He bent over the wreckage, pulling at broken planks and wads of hay. The first thing he found was a figurine of a girl in a wide, short skirt, the skirt flowing out from her hips, her posture suggesting she was dancing. It was made of white stone, the cut flawless.
 

He tossed it aside.

He rummaged through another box. Here he found a sphere of glass with white dust resting inside. As he picked it up, the dust was disturbed, and it twirled and floated inside the sphere, sparkling in the light of the dying flames.

He dropped that one, too.

Talon drew back when he dug out the contents of a third crate, and found himself holding a hand. Not a human hand. It was made of ircidium, polished and reflective, with smooth joints that curled the piece into a neutral position. He recovered from the shock and ran his fingers along it, tracing the shape of the metal, and letting himself remember.

The juggernauts. He had made them. Designed and forged them. That was his talent, his job, he knew that now. He had made things for the wizards of Genesia. Whatever they had needed for their work, he had found a way to create it. He was no wizard, had no magic of his own. A keen mind, a steady hand. Patience. He laughed at that, turning the hand over, examining the insides. Patience.

A Three Six?
 

He could picture it now, the size and shape of the model.
 

No, the Three Six had sharper edges, rougher grooves.

He looked at the back of the hand. The inner mechanism had been removed at some point, making it harder to identify.
 

It's more advanced than the Three Six. But the three six was the last model. Wasn't it?

He considered keeping the hand, but what was the point? It would never fit Oz, and it was useless without the movement. He placed it back in the water, which he noticed had risen another half a foot. He knew the river wasn't that deep, but was it shallow enough to keep the barge from sinking?

He decided to search two more of the crates, picking a pair that hadn't been damaged by the girl's magic. He grabbed at the sealed edges and pried one open, spilling out the hay and capturing his prize.

A six inch shard of ebocite. He threw it from him, and it smacked off the far wall of the hold. Talon looked back at the Cursed girl in the corner. It was better that she was dead. Better for her and her unborn child.
 

Was I wrong about the Shifters? Had they been chasing the ebocite, and not their brethren?

It didn't matter now.

He approached the last box and stood in front of it. He stared at it for a moment and then backed away.
 

It didn't matter now.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Eryn

"It is thirsty," Oz said.

"How can it be thirsty? It isn't even human," Gesper said, keeping his voice low so that Oz wouldn't hear him.

"What do you need, Oz?" Eryn asked.

"It is thirsty," the juggernaut said again.

They had exited the tunnel out of Varrow and headed deeper into the Washfall woods, moving as quickly and quietly as they could. Wallace had paused at one point to remove the shirt from beneath his hauberk, giving it to Eryn so she could cover herself up. The shirt was stained and smelled of sweat, but it was long enough to travel from her shoulders to her knees and restore some measure of her decency.

Not that I care a wit for decency right now.

Fehri and the Overlord had died to get her out of the city, leaving her desperate to ensure she wouldn't be captured again. She had kept them headed north, in the general direction she knew Talon had gone. After spending the next three hours in a desperate march through the forest, she began to wonder if she was doing the right thing. If General Spyne knew where Talon was heading, then he would know where she was heading. Could she stand up to one of the Nine and survive a second time?

Oz pointed at the pack that Trock was carrying. "It must stop. It is thirsty."

Eryn remembered the dark liquid. "Of course," she said. "Let's stop here."

"I don't think that is wise," Trock said.

"It must stop," Oz repeated.

"We don't have a choice," Eryn said. "Ten extra minutes of walking won't do much if General Spyne shows up on horseback."

"It is Ninth of Nine," Oz said. "Ninth of Nine. It remembers."

"What do you remember?" Eryn asked.

"Ninth of Nine. It is dead. It is all dead. It is ordered. It is done."

"Genesia?"

"Yes. Ninth of Nine. It kills it."

General Spyne had killed the people of Genesia. Eryn wasn't surprised by that. The General had frightened her the moment she had seen him. There was such intensity in his eyes, such malice.

"Okay," Trock said. "We stop here. Ten minutes."

The soldiers slumped against nearby rocks and trees. Their faces were sweaty, their posture hinting at their exhaustion.They were grateful for the chance to rest, if only for a few minutes.

"Wallace," Eryn said, "there are metal cans in the pack. Please give one to Oz."

The soldier dropped the pack from his shoulder and opened it up. He found one of the cans and tossed it towards the juggernaut. Oz caught it, a breath of steam escaping through the grating at its mouth.

"It is pleased."
 

It held the can for a moment, and then put it on the ground. It still had the small satchel over its shoulder, and it lifted it and held it out to Eryn. "It is thirsty. It is a gift."

"A gift?" Eryn said, taking the satchel. She untied the top and opened it. Inside was another lacquered box and a note. She took the note and unfolded it with one hand.

Eryn,

I have been an Overlord for too long to think that your safety in the palace was assured, and so I have left all of the cure that remains in Varrow with Oz for safekeeping. If I am dead, tell Talon that I love him, and I will be waiting to see him again.

- Caela
 

Eryn pulled the box from the satchel. It was larger than the one Kelkin had carried, older and more simple. She felt a tear run from her eye as she opened the lid and looked down at the six vials of the cure and the injector. It was enough to make her whole again, and still have some left over.
 

Not yet. It leaves me unconscious, and we can't stop for long.

"Thank you, Oz," Eryn said. She stepped up to the juggernaut and wrapped her arms around it as best she could. It was odd to hug a thing of magic and metal, but she didn't care.

"It is pleased," Oz said. It surprised her by putting its hand to her back and pressing gently.

Eryn bent down and picked up the can, and then handed it to the juggernaut. It took the can, shifted a finger, and stabbed the top of it. It brought the can to its grating and began pouring it in.
 

They all watched in silence as it drank the contents of the can. They could hear something on the inside of the creature working, hissing and grinding in the top of its chest.

"It is thirsty," Oz said, throwing the first can aside. Wallace tossed it another, and it repeated the process.

"Where are we going to go?" Gesper asked. "This way leads past the mines.
His
soldiers are going to be right thick there."

"We need to catch up to Talon," Eryn said. "He was heading for Edgewater."

"You want us to go to Edgewater?" Wallace asked. He turned to Trock. "My apologies, my Lord, but that's suicide."

"What choice to do we have?" Trock asked. "We weren't supposed to be found out so soon."

"We weren't supposed to be found out at all," Gesper said. "To Heden with General Spyne."

"Did you get a look at that tattooed man?" Wallace asked. "Gave me the shivers just looking at him."

"He wasn't with Spyne the last time he came to Varrow," Trock said. "I wonder what pit they pulled him out of?"